Page 130 of Old Acquaintances

The rubber of the wetsuit makes my back stick on the door and suddenly I’m falling backward. The door is opening, and I land with a squeal into arms. Tucker holds me into the crook of his elbow, catching me, and frowns. He assesses the three of us in this tight space. “What are you three cooking up?”

I right myself to a standing position. “Nothing.”

He squints. “Fine. Are you ready to roll?” He flickers his eyes on my body. “That’s a good look for you, shark-bait.”

Johnny and Jen stay back while the rest of us go snorkeling. Serena directs Tucker to a reef she heavily researched and he anchors the boat. I am sitting in the back with Callie, only meand Serena in rented wetsuits, everyone else apparently warm-blooded enough to handle seventy-degree water.

Wyatt ties his hair back in a rubber band and asks, “You know how to snorkel, Ell?”

“Sure.” I set my goggles.

“Do you know what to do if you get water in the tube?”

“Yeah. You just put your lips together and blow.”

He collects his snorkel gear. “No, you put your lips around the mouthpiece. You need to push the air out.”

I roll my eyes. “I was doing a thing. Hemingway, because we’re in the Keys…never mind.”

Callie and Serena jump off the boat into the blue-green water, the midday sun glistening off the waves. Ritchie finishes his drink and carefully steps down the ladder. He makes a sound, the water must be colder than he expected, and dunks under the surface.

Wyatt tosses me my disinfected snorkel and follows our friends, and I watch Tucker behind the wheel, on his phone.

“Are you going in the water?” he asks, his back to me.

“Yes.”

“Well, go.”

“Don’t rush me.” I fiddle with my snorkel tube, trying to connect it to my mask, and Tucker turns around.

He comes toward me. “Here, let me.” He crouches down and attaches it. I put the plastic in my mouth and Tucker smiles. He says, “You look like you’re fifteen again.”

“Huh?” My sound vibrates and echoes.

“It makes me want to do this.” He flattens his palm on the top of the snorkel tube.

I free my mouth to breathe and yell, “Tucker!”

He snickers and steps back. He peels his shirt off and says, “How are your swimming skills? Still subpar?”

My eyes do not need to look at his bare chest, especiallywhen he takes this as a win, so I force myself to focus on his face. I stand, hands pressing into my rubber unitard, sounding like I have the world’s worst allergies when I respond, “I am a decent swimmer.”

“Uh huh. Sure.” He pinches a smile that wants to creep forth.

I hate this. Whatever this is.

“I thought you weren’t talking to me,” I snap. “And you’re over me. You don’t care about me anymore. I’m nothing to you.”

His face falls. “I didn’t say you were nothing to me.”

“You pretty much did.”

“Ella, I said…that I’ve moved on.” His eyelids flutter. “I care about you, I’m glad you know the truth, but there’s nothing more to it. We’re just friends.”

My throat clogged, I say, “Just friends don’t try to suffocate each other.”

“That wasn’t what I was -”

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